


my car parked south

by heytomlinson (adorer)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Banter, Christmas, Fluff, Idk what i'm doing, M/M, Oneshot, i'm not happy w this whatsoever but hey, kind of, lourry, oblivious!Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 21:15:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adorer/pseuds/heytomlinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Looks like we’re stranded in a blizzard then. On Christmas Eve. Missing Ed’s concert. And it’s still fucking freezing."</p><p>or</p><p>louis and harry get stranded in a snowstorm on christmas eve and the night doesn't turn out as bad as they thought, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my car parked south

**Author's Note:**

> so i wrote this over the expanse of three days all for libby (main idea credit to her), so i hope she likes it! i almost lost my sanity on more than one occasion and josie can completely agree with me there since she was the recipient of some of my late night weirdness.
> 
> i wanted to write something relatively christmassy since it's december and everything, but this hardly does christmas justice, although i'll just pretend it does. 
> 
> over all, i'm not really happy with how this turned out and i feel like the ending was too rushed or whatnot, but i'm just going to keep hoping that it'll grow on me! i haven't edited due to the plain fact that if i do i'll most likely end up backspacing half of it and promptly hating myself - so sorry in advance for any errors!! :)
> 
> oh, and title is from anna sun // walk the moon

It’s Christmas Eve. It’s cold. Really cold. Snowing, in fact – and Harry’s tugging on his coat and shaking the gathered bits of fluff from his scarf and winding it around his neck carefully. Just for extra warmth. Which is stupid, really, because as soon as they’re in the car he’ll have to take them both off. Louis seems to _always_ be cold, so the heat is _always_ on a ridiculously high temperature which will normally leave Harry breaking a sweat and Louis only toasty warm. It’s unfair, Harry thinks, but he’d never say it aloud.

“You almost ready?” Harry calls, his voice loud in the otherwise peaceful flat.

“Yup,” Louis answers, popping up beside Harry as he leans down to lace his boots. Harry almost topples to the floor in surprise, but Louis reaches out a hand to steady him.

“Easy there,” Louis says, grinning.

“Not my fault when some maniac materialises beside me and I get a bit of a fright,” Harry huffs, tying his bootlaces sharply.

“Sorry,” Louis apologises, curling an arm around Harry’s waist as soon as he’s on his feet.

“’S fine, only joking,” Harry replies, laughing lightly and squeezing Louis’ shoulder. He steps back, pulling away and beginning to survey Louis, giving him a onceover. Louis realises and raises his arms in the air, twirling around. He’s wearing the customary coat, scarf and beanie for the weather in England during winter; and he’s got one of Harry’s sweaters on under his coat. Harry can tell because the sleeves are dangling loosely from Louis’ hands, and naturally he’s flapping them around wildly as he spins. Harry catches him on the arm as he tips dangerously after one too many spins and bundles him up tightly in a hug.

“You look great,” Harry compliments quietly.

Louis giggles, his fingers clinging to Harry’s upper arms to balance himself. “Don’t look too bad yourself,” he breathes, pulse racing against Harry’s chest.

“Cheeky,” Harry remarks, reaching behind Louis for his keys. “Better get going or we’ll be late.”

“Nothing wrong with being fashionably late,” Louis argues, leaning forward to brush his lips against Harry’s gently.

“But not to a concert, yeah?” Harry adds on, smiling and giving Louis a quick kiss before taking hold of his hand as he opens the front door and heads for the car.

Despite the fact that the car’s parked on the street outside their flat, less than 25 feet away, it’s long enough for both of their noses to flush red with the chill and for snowflakes to gather on their shoulders and beanies.

Harry removes his beanie once he’s closed his door to the driver’s side, shaking out his curly hair to dislodge any snowflakes that weren’t yet melted and somehow got into his hair. He unwinds his scarf too, because he knows that once the keys are in the ignition, the heat’s coming on.

“Christ, it’s cold out,” Louis complains, enunciating Harry’s point.

“Best be glad the concert’s indoors then,” Harry replies, ignoring Louis’ hit to his arm.

The concert they’re headed to is being played in central London, which they live just out of by about eight miles, meaning they have to leave a bit earlier so they make it on time. They’ve accounted for traffic too, which’ll most likely get heavier as they get closer to the city.

 ❄  ❄  ❄

It’s been about fifteen minutes of driving and pointless conversation, and Harry’s starting to become a mix of concerned and anxious with the amount of snow falling.

“D’you think it’s going to slow down?” Harry asks, breaking the silence that had been there for the past few minutes as they watched the snow blanket the ground. Cars were starting to slow with the unsafe supply of ice and snow collecting, so traffic was starting to build.

“I really bloody hope so, I’d rather not be stranded in the middle of nowhere when there’s a perfectly nice indoor venue waiting in London,” Louis says, but then he groans. “I jinxed it, didn’t I?”

“’M afraid so,” Harry replies, slowing the car down as they come to a police stop.

“Evening, sir,” the policeman greets as Harry slides the window down. An icy gust of air blasts into the car and Louis shivers, goose-bumps threatening to prickle on his skin. He can’t stop feeling like they’re about to be arrested or something, even though they clearly _aren’t_.

The policeman proceeds to tell them that he regrets to say it, but a blizzard has struck London causing roads to be closed further ahead. The storm’s heading in their direction too, and he advises them that it wouldn’t be safe to continue driving, even if it’s to turn back. Harry feels his heart sink because he was really looking forward to the concert. It’s one of Harry’s best mates, Ed Sheeran, that’s playing too. They’d planned to catch up afterwards and everything, and he knows Louis will be gutted too.

“We’re stopping all transportation, and we’ve had a message spread on the news to prevent any further traffic. So, all we can do is wait for it to pass and offer for you to set up camp for the night. It’s expected to be gone by tomorrow morning, from what we’ve heard – and it’s up to you if you want to stay or drive back,” the policeman finishes. The snow’s already starting to grow heavier and there’s a strong wind picking up, so Harry doesn’t need to think twice. He looks to Louis for confirmation, and he nods, so Harry does too.

“Looks like we’ll be staying here,” Harry says.

“Great, well we’ve got some volunteers walking around offering blankets, water, and a minimal amount of food, so feel free to give them a yell if you need anything,” Niall – Harry notes – offers.

Harry smiles. “Cheers, officer.”

Niall steps back from the window and gestures ahead with his torch, and Harry rolls the window up. He drives for a few metres before there’s another police escort gesturing for them to pull into the shoulder of the road behind another good ten cars.

Louis sighs deeply once Harry’s put the handbrake on and cut the motor.

“Looks like we’re stranded in a blizzard then. On Christmas Eve. Missing Ed’s concert. And it’s still fucking _freezing_ ,” he says, flopping his head back against the headrest.

“C’mon, it’s not _that_ bad,” Harry tries.

“Yeah, why’s that? It seems pretty gloomy to me.”

Harry tries not to look offended. “We’ve got each other?”

Louis rolls his eyes, but grins. “This is all turning into one soppy romance film way quicker than I hoped. Either that or one of those Christmas horror films.”

“You hoped at all?” Harry counters.

“Well, we’ve got all night, I knew something like that was going to happen at some stage. We can do anything we want – not that there is much to do.”

“Yeah, just one curly-haired prick beside you that got us into this mess, right?” Harry plays. Louis snorts, clapping a hand over his mouth to supress a laugh.

“Your mind needs a thorough rinsing with holy water,” Louis starts, still grinning. “But I like the way you think.”

“I’m sure the cops do too,” Harry says, wincing once he’s thought of the situation they’re in. “Probably get arrested for public indecency.”

Louis pulls a face. “Well there goes our fun of the night.”

“I mean we still _could_ , but it’s risky.”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “Yeah, we could, but I’d rather not have that on my criminal record.”

Harry laughs. “I don’t think it’s a crime.”

“Could be,” Louis says, shrugging.

Harry shakes his head, and flicks at Louis’ knee. “I’ll get us some blankets, yeah?” He asks.

“Yeah, thanks,” Louis answers, nodding.

Harry goes to open his door, but Louis reaches for his arm, stopping him.

“Hey, put your scarf and beanie back on first. Can’t have you getting sick, your mum would kill me.”

Harry scoffs. “I’m nineteen and perfectly capable of looking after myself,” he argues, but pulls his beanie back on and loops the scarf around his neck before turning to Louis. “Better?”

Louis nods. “Much.” He reaches for Harry again as he goes for the door. Harry turns to look at him expectantly, waiting for Louis to pipe up with another motherly command like ‘ _look both ways before you cross the road_ ’ or something, but Louis only smirks.

“Forgot something,” he says, leaning over to kiss Harry. Harry’s taken aback and blushes, but he’s completely just going to blame that on the heat inside the car.

Louis pulls back and dips his head to the floor, a few wispy bits of his fringe swooping down over his eyes, before glancing back up to Harry.

“Okay, you can go now,” he says, and Harry rolls his eyes, but he looks giddy so it’s acceptable.

“Any day now,” Louis prompts when Harry’s been staring at Louis, dazed, for a couple of minutes.

Harry shakes his head, curls bouncing, like he’s trying to clear it. “Right, yeah, sorry,” he mumbles, fumbling for the door handle and thrusting the door open; almost wiping out a passing stranger.

“Sorry! Sorry,” Harry apologises, and then mumbles, “Jesus Christ,” under his breath.

“You’re a hazard, Styles, why are you allowed outside?” Louis calls from the car, and Harry only pulls the finger and slams his door in response. Louis laughs.

 _God, I love him_ , Harry thinks as he works on finding a volunteer to beg some blankets off. It’s kind of silly, really, because Harry never lets little things like a surprise kiss affect him so fully like that, but as ridiculous as it sounds, it made him realise how much Louis actually means to him. He always feels like someone’s there watching out for him, and he knows he’s safe because Louis would do anything for Harry – and vice versa. Harry also _really_ wants to go back to the car and fuck Louis’ brain out too, but that would be inappropriate due to the circumstances. Wouldn’t it?

So, of course, Harry then begins to extend his train of thought on that subject and finds himself subconsciously moaning out loud and biting down on his bottom lip – therefore putting him in an extremely awkward position.

Someone clears their throat from behind Harry and he flushes the darkest shade possible of red, realising what he’s done. The stranger taps him on the shoulder, and Harry’s got no choice but to turn around.

“Hi, sorry – um, I’m one of the volunteers. My name’s Zayn, and I was wondering if you needed help with anything?” The man says, introducing himself. Harry pretends not to notice that Zayn’s blushing too – but that could just be because of the cold. Maybe.

“Oh, hi, I’m – ah – Harry. Yeah, um, I was wondering if I could have a couple of blankets?” Harry answers, stammering (embarrassingly) on a few words.

“Yeah, no, sure thing. Just the two?” Zayn asks. Harry nods. “Just a minute,” Zayn says, excusing himself. And then Zayn’s gone and Harry can breathe out, because oh my _God_. Louis was right – Harry’s a hazard to society and himself. Harry shoves his gloved hands into his coat pockets – the coat of which he’s overwhelmingly glad he’s wearing – since Zayn couldn’t have been able to tell that Harry was hard in his jeans when they first started talking.

“Here you go,” Zayn says, reappearing in front of Harry after a few minutes. “Anything else?”

“No, that’s all, thanks,” Harry says back, smiling gratefully.

“No problem,” Zayn answers, before turning on his heel and disappearing again. Harry and Louis had eaten dinner quickly before leaving for the concert, and they had water bottles with them in the car so they weren’t in need of any other supplies.

Harry hugs the two soft and fluffy blankets to his chest as he starts trudging back through the snow to find their car. The snow’s falling heavier now, and Harry’s breath is coming out in puffs of steam – so the temperature’s dropped considerably since they left home. Snowflakes are starting to melt through Harry’s jeans and he can feel the icy slush trickling down to his ankles. Harry shivers and squints further to try and spot the car. There’s a couple of rows of cars parked up in the shoulder, with a police car still where they were originally stopped. The sun’s starting to set too, and there’s shades of yellow, orange and pink washing over the site.

Harry spots the navy BMW parked about 50 metres away, and he finds himself humming a song that’d been on the radio earlier in order to distract him from making a fool of himself, publicly, for the second time running. He makes it back to the car in record time; keeping his head down, mouth shut and mind blank. A wave of relief and safety washes over him as he pulls open the car door. Warmth, too, but that’s standard.

Louis’s reclined his chair back and is tapping away on the keys of his phone – on Twitter, presumably. He looks up when Harry flops into his seat, frowning at the fact that Harry’s covered in ice and snow and is trying to pretend that he’s not shivering.

“Alright?” Louis asks.

“Yeah,” Harry replies. He’s quiet for a little while, and Louis is too because he’s probably gone back to aimlessly scrolling through his Twitter feed rather than grasping for another conversation topic. He finds one, anyway.

“Concert’s going really well so far,” Louis says, reading from his phone.

Harry nods. “’M sorry we couldn’t be there,” he says quietly, genuinely sorry, and Louis suddenly feels like the biggest prick in the entire world.

“No – I didn’t mean it like that. It’s not your fault – couldn’t have been. I know how much you wanted to be there, _God_ , I’m sorry,” he says, switching his phone off and sitting up properly.

Harry smiles, but it’s got a hint of sadness, and Louis is fighting the urge to punch himself in the face. Harry’s doing what he can to make the most of what’s happened, and Louis’s completely just pushed it all to the side. He couldn’t feel worse, honestly.

“I was thinking we could sleep on the backseat. I know there’s not much room and all, but I’m sure we could make it work?” Harry says, switching his attention to the blankets still in his lap. Louis pretends not to notice the abrupt subject change.

“I’m sure we could, yeah,” Louis answers. “We could pull these forward more so they’re out of the way, or, in fact, pull them all the way back so they’re level with the backseat and will give us room to stretch out?” He gestures to his and Harry’s seats, weighing up the ideas.

“Second one, definitely. The more room we have, the better,” Harry inputs, glad to have a distraction.

Louis gives Harry a pointed look. “Is that your awful attempt at hinting that you want to have sex later?”

Harry bites the inside of his cheek and feels himself blush. It wasn’t his intention, truly.

“Hasn’t Liam taught you _anything_?” Louis asks, grinning. “Right, better get moving then. Sooner rather than later, hm, Harold?”

Harry cringes. “I’ve told you numerous amounts of times, _Louis_ , it’s just Harry.”

Louis swats at the air as if batting it away. “Harold, Harry, same thing.”

Harry sighs. “I’ll do the blankets.”

Within five minutes, they’ve managed to recline both seats fully back so they’re like an extra addition to the backseat – despite the gap in the middle because of the centre console. Harry’s spread the two rather large blankets out and has had enough excess to double layer each of them so it’s all just become one big bundle of blankets, but it’s a fair effort. Louis had come up with the ‘genius’ idea to use their coats (folded up) as pillows, until Harry reminded him that his own is cold and damp with the snow; to which Louis’ quiet ‘oh’ confirmed that he hadn’t thought that through. They’ve resorted to using Louis’ coat as one pillow, Louis’ jacket (that he had on under his coat and over his sweater because it was ‘too cold’) as another, and Louis’ scarf as something to kind of just float in the middle.

Harry throws his beanie, scarf and coat up to the vague area of the dashboard and settles himself under the pile of blankets after kicking his boots off, too. Louis throws his shoes across the car as well, almost smashing the windscreen and earning a whack on the arm from Harry.

They’ve only just settled down properly and got comfortable when Harry disturbs them both, muttering how it’s too hot and promptly tugging off his jeans and sweater so he’s left in his t-shirt and boxers. Louis cranks open one eye once Harry’s dislodged himself from under his arm and is now watching intently with more focus than he ever used at school to watch Harry simply _partially_ undress.

“I can feel your eyes on me, Louis,” Harry says as he stuffs his couple of clothing articles into a ball and lobs them off towards the dashboard yet again.

It’s when he delves back under the blankets that Harry realises all the windows of the car have fogged up, and that Louis’s drawn a smiley face in the window closest to his head.

Louis scoffs at Harry’s previous comment. “You’d do the same if it was me.”

“Modest, aren’t you?”

Louis elbows Harry under the blankets, and Harry feigns pain, scrunching his face up. Louis burrows into his chest tighter as if to make things better, and Harry relaxes into his touch. Louis ends up shrugging out of his jeans after a few more minutes.

“It’s a miracle!” Harry shrieks. “Louis Tomlinson’s too hot for his own liking!” Which ends in Louis grabbing hold of Harry’s wrists and scattering kisses and love bites down his neck and collarbones until he’s begging for mercy.

They fall asleep with one of Harry’s hands in Louis’ hair and Louis snuggled closely into Harry’s chest – hands curled tightly around fistfuls of Harry’s t-shirt. Their legs are tangled together with feet nudging each other’s blindly, and they both feel content.

They wake up like that on Christmas morning, too, and the night before hadn’t turned out half as bad as either of them expected it would. Sometimes good things can come out of the unexpected, Harry thinks, as he drifts in and out of sleep early in the morning with sunlight filtering through the car windows. And he’s completely okay with that. 

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you managed to at least enjoy some of it???  
> feel free to leave me comments - criticism if you want, and kudos please! thank you for reading, i really appreciate it. i hope you all have a great christmas too!


End file.
